


Coffee and Tea

by violet_quill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Gen, Post - Order of the Phoenix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_quill/pseuds/violet_quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is Snape's fortieth birthday, and he has spent his life alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004; dedicated to arionrhod on the occasion of her birthday. Originally posted [here](http://violet-quill.livejournal.com/5055.html).

I've spent my life alone.

This is no great revelation, no life-defining grasp at the depths of my heart - it is something that I have always known. But today is the first time I am allowing myself to admit it, because today is my fortieth birthday.

I sit at my desk with a quill and a dipper of blood red ink, a stack of potions papers laid out in rolls of crisp parchment. The thought of reading through such rubbish is excruciating, but the thought of doing anything else today is even more so.

I am used to spending my birthdays grading papers, but something about this one tastes different - not because of the age, I think, but perhaps because it is the first since the end of the war. My fingers trail absently to the other arm where the dark mark once stained my skin. Now, it is nothing but a scar - a light impression of what used to be, and now will never be again since Voldemort is gone - _truly_ gone - this time.

Now I find that my life lacks purpose. I am no longer useful as a spy, or a member of the Order. I have no need to associate with anyone outside of school, and I rarely do. I even occasionally find myself wishing that Potter were still around to torment, because at least I had the knowledge that someone had _some_ feeling bout me, even if it were hate. Now all I do is teach scores of idiots information that they have no wish to learn. They don't even fear me anymore, now that everyone views me as some sort of war hero. I should blaze the mark back on my arm just so that the first years will turn in their homework on time.

I mutter an incantation at a cup that is now cooled to my grasp, and when I drink, the black coffee scours the back of my throat. I am a potions master and still cannot seem to manage making a cup of coffee that doesn't taste like ash. Lupin always seems so relaxed with those bloody teacups of his; perhaps I should try something weaker for a while, coax my body out of the extremes it seems to require.

"No, no, no," I mutter to myself, marking great red lines across the parchment in front of me. "I should make my students learn to brew coffee, as they seem to completely incompetent at everything else."

"I understand that coffee has amazing restorative properties," comes a voice from the doorway. Startled, I look up, and frown at the unwelcome visitor.

"What do you want, Lupin?" I ask irritably, casting my eyes back down at the parchment that looks as if it's bleeding.

He ignores my obvious distaste for his presence and walks over to my desk, where he picks up my cup of coffee and sniffs at it. "You know, you could just pour the grounds straight down your throat," he suggests, "Or chew on the beans. It would probably have the same effect."

I grab the cup from him and glare. "I am going to assume you have some reason for coming to my office unannounced." Not that I am all that surprised - he's been constantly underfoot ever since being reinstated on the staff at Hogwarts, a perk of being another war hero apparently.

"I just... wanted to wish you a happy birthday," he says quietly, suddenly looking very serene and I wonder if it's all that tea.

"Nothing particularly happy about it," I grunt, wishing he would just leave me to my loneliness.

"I figured you must have turned forty as well," he continues, ignoring me, "Since I had a birthday myself not too long ago."

"And I'll bet Potter and his clan threw you a great ruddy party with streamers and cake and pet monkeys hanging from the ceiling," I say, sarcasm dripping from the words.

"Well - no, we had a quiet dinner and then I..." He breaks off, looks at me quizzically. "So what are _you_ doing, for your birthday?"

"You're looking at it," I snarl, and immediately regret it because the look that comes to his eyes is unmistakable - pity.

"Severus, do you - I mean, do you want to..."

I hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't be absurd. Birthdays are foolish, and I have no desire for your company." I can't help but think, as I say this, that this is the reason that I am still alone.

He looks at me for a moment, and then turns to go. I involuntarily let out a small breath of relief, but then I hear his voice - quiet, as he still faces the door.

"I don't understand why someone would choose to be alone."

"Excuse me?" I am unable to squelch my curiosity, and he turns back to face me.

"You're not a bad person," he says. "No matter what Harry might think. I just can't understand why you insist on pushing everyone away. Especially now that the war is over... don't you think that this is the time to put aside old grudges and enjoy the fact that we're all still alive?"

"What - is this your way of saying 'let's be friends'?" I ask, my lip curling distastefully.

He sighs. "Look, Severus, I'm not doing this out of pity. I just couldn't help but notice that you didn't - you didn't _lose_ anyone during the war, the way that some of us did." A quick blur of sadness washes over his face, and then it's gone. "Because you didn't have anyone to lose. I don't know much about it, I'll admit, but that just reeks of a defense mechanism. I thought that maybe now that there isn't so much at stake... that maybe you would take down some of those bloody walls you've thrown up and actually let people into your life."

I laugh, darkly. "Really, Lupin - what makes you think I _want_ you in my life? Or anyone else for that matter? I'm perfectly happy here with my potions and papers." The lie slips from my mouth as easily as any I've ever told. I'm not even sure if I remember, after all these years, what it is to be friends with someone - to enjoy the company of another just for the sake of company.

"What an insult," Remus says, his voice still even but an edge of discord rising in it, "To choose loneliness when there are those of us who have had it forced upon us."

"You?" I spit. "You've always been surrounded by friends. Potter and that brood of his are around here all the time just to see you. And even in school, you..." My voice trails off.

"Ah, remembering now, are you?" he asks, the words laced with disgust. "You'll have to excuse me, Severus, if I don't pity you in finding every other human being in the world _beneath_ your friendship, when I am only forty years old and every one of my best friends is _dead_."

The power of his words hit me, and I feel as though I've been physically struck. I realize in that moment that he's right. Since the death of my mother almost thirty years before, I have not allowed another person to get close to me. Because of this, Remus has suffered where I have not.

And I can't help but wonder, as I watch the quiet smoldering of anger in his eyes, if he isn't the better for it.

"I apologize," I say.

"Oh sod off, Severus," he says, spinning around and heading back towards the door. "I'll leave you to your _potions_ and _papers_. Happy fucking birthday."

"Wait!"

I can barely believe that the word came from my mouth, and see the surprise in his eyes when he turns back to me. "Ah, Lu - Remus," I begin, casting my eyes at my desk instead of meeting his. "I was wondering..."

"Yes?" I can almost hear the beginnings of a smug smile in his tone.

"I really do make a horrible cup of coffee," I say. "I don't suppose you'd like to show me what you find so interesting about tea?" I look up at him, see the smile, and force myself to continue. "For my birthday."

"Tea, it is," he says. I rise behind my desk and follow him out of my office.

Ink-stained parchment and cold coffee remain on my desk, forgotten.


End file.
